


Found You

by ChristalMagic



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Loss, Porn With Plot, Smut, i dont hate her but i couldnt help myself, im mean to mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristalMagic/pseuds/ChristalMagic
Summary: She was there for Arthur through everything, being more than good friends but less than partners.They support eachother through the good and bad times, it's not love tho, no, it's not love at all.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first one shot and im no good at writing summaries ya know.  
> Fucking and ignoring your true feelings is a good idea right??? right guys??  
> Sorry for any mistakes it's 4am.

If it wasn't for Dutch and Hosea, I wouldn't know where I would be, probably dead years ago. Living a life of crime just to get by after fleeing an abusive home isn't something a 16 year old should go through, especially a girl. Cutting my hair with a knife I had stolen helped me pass as a boy. The world was unkind, downright brutal, but I somehow survived on the streets for a year.  
Pickpocketing became second nature, i never got caught, until the one day that i must have not been as aware of my surroundings as i should have been.

The greasy old man turned and grabbed my wrist before I had the chance to react, calling me all the horrid words under the sun before pulling me away from any seeing eyes and beating me.  
Two men rounded the corner at my shouts, and with my luck they were the men I had successfully stolen from before I approached the man beating me. I was done for. 

The two men turned out to be Dutch and Hosea and for the first time in my life, I had a home and a family I felt safe with. Dutch and Hosea taught me how to read and write, run cons, become a sharpshooter, how to survive together. I learned to be a delicate woman when needed and a brutal outlaw when that was needed.

Arthur taught me how to hunt, how to live off the land. When i was older and experienced enough we would run jobs together, we worked like a well oiled machine, knowing what the other was going to do without having to say a word. We got closer because of it, being able to confide in eachother and talk about anything.  
I never saw him as a brother, like I do with John, he was my best friend and I cared about him deeply. I of course hoped he viewed me the same, a best friend, instead of a sister and I was given an answer to my unasked questions after sharing a few drinks thanks to a successful stagecoach robbery we executed when I was 18, he had recently turned 20.  
We probably drank more than we should have and one thing led to another, before I knew it we were entangled in eachothers arms in one of the saloons rental rooms. Unable to keep our hands and mouths off eachother. It was awkward but gentle, with it being my first time.  
His kisses leaving trails of electrocuting passion, his hands gripping me so hard bruises would form.  
Any doubts of what we were doing flew out of the window once his head was between my legs, it was like we were the only souls in existence, two beings needing each other to survive.  
His eyes never left mine when he finally took me, i swear i could feel myself drowning when gazing into those ocean eyes. My whole body was floating and on fire, my nerves like shooting stars, bursts of white in my vision like the birth of the ever burning sun.  
Reaching the end together felt like the most beautiful experience I will ever share with another, holding onto each other as we descended back to earth.

We kept it secret from the others but as the gang began to grow, it got harder to hide it. We never advanced our relationship, keeping it to just fooling around and being there for each other whenever we needed a release. We were perfect for eachother in that regard, after a successful job it would be passionate, baring on the cusp of loving. If a job didn't go as planned or we had pent up frustrations, it would be borderline animalistic, using each other to release those frustrations selfishly.

Everything changed eight months in, when he met Mary. He really cared about her, and she him.  
We wouldn't go on jobs together as much, sometimes we would go alone and i’d fuck anyone that would bring upon any sort of twinge between my legs, men or women.  
I still remember his face when he told me he loves her, wanted to be with her forever. I was happy for him, he was still my best friend. I was the only one in the gang he showed the ring to, wanting to know if it's perfect, asking how he should propose, calming his nerves before he left to see her that night.  
I'd never seen him so happy when he returned the evening after, boasting and telling the whole camp he's going to be married. The twinge in my heart was evident, but I truly was happy to see him happy. Mourning what we had wasn't right, we were nothing more than fuck buddies that would confide in eachother and support eachother...that wasn’t love...no, it wasn’t.  
I was there for him when they would argue, being his shoulder to cry on, bringing him Whiskey to help numb the pain, willing him to sleep with the promise that tomorrow will be better for them.  
I was the one Mary came to one day when she came to the camp alone, handing me the ring he had proposed to her with. The marriage was off. 

He didn't return that night, or the night after, on the third day I readied up my horse with a few days worth of supplies and with the intent to find him and bring him home.  
Two days on the road brought nothing, he wasn't in the usual spots that would come to mind, he didn't want to be found. I pushed on, the thought of him being alone or even in danger making me desperate.  
A couple of thieves on the road thought it was their lucky day when they happened upon me camping within the woods, alone with no man around to be my saviour.  
They didnt know who they were fucking with until they felt the cold sting of my knife in their throats the second they laid their filthy hands on me.  
I packed up and carried on into the night, not bothering to wash the blood off myself properly, that was the last of my worries right now. 

The night was still young when I saw smoke in the distance, a whinney in the distance causing my horses ears to prick up and focus in the same direction. The sound of a familiar friend. 

Drawing closer and pulling my horse up to the other, I saw him beside the fire, he didn't notice me till I had dismounted and made my way over. 

“I’ve found you.”


	2. Lost

He's piss drunk, I can smell it in the air and he's nursing an almost empty bottle of aged pirate rum. The strong stuff.  
He doesn't say a word as I sit beside him, not too close to invade his space, just far enough for him to know I'm here if he needs me.

I've never seen him this broken, his eyes puffy and unable to concentrate on anything around him.  
He tries, tries to concentrate on the flames ahead of him, they illuminate his face in a bright orange hue, dancing across his saddened features.   
I want nothing more than to embrace him at that moment, hold him tight and tell him he's going to be okay, that it's going to be better, that the pain will diminish with time, that I will be here for him through it all. 

He lets out a shaken sigh as he takes in a breath, not looking to me before he speaks. 

“She doesn't want me no more.” It’s barely above a whisper and I can't tell if he's saying it to me or himself.   
My body is screaming, my heart aching, remembering the promise I made to myself almost two years ago when we first started getting closer, that I would do everything in my power to protect him from any suffering. I instinctively moved towards him with haste, pulling him close and enveloping him in my arms. At first, I thought he would refuse and push me away but he didn’t, he leaned into my embrace, accepting the blanket of support I could give him, that I always gave him.

He hadn't eaten or drank properly for days, and after much persistence from him, I finally got him to eat something, saying I wasn't going to stop until he did. Urging him to drink my water instead of booze, knowing he would thank me tomorrow.  
When exhaustion finally took over, we retired into his tent, holding each other close but not going further than that. Fucking was how we used to manage our emotions, but this situation demanded something more delicate, I just hoped being here would help him.   
As he quickly fell into what I hoped would be a peaceful sleep, I tightened my grip around his waist and whispered: “You don't know what you mean to me.”

He wouldn't come back with me the next morning, saying he needed a few more days and promised to return soon.   
He did of course, then resuming to get back to business with jobs and helping the camp, seemingly pushing his feelings to the bottom of his heart and into the depths of his brain. 

He seemed to get better over the months, us both flinging ourselves into jobs and robberies. It was almost like the good old days, his spark was back, he wasn't hurting or worrying anymore.

That was until he received a letter from a woman I never heard of, telling him of his son he now has. He explained it all to me, how he had met a beautiful young waitress on the night I had left him. He said he wasn't thinking straight, that his emotions made him confused, the alcohol making him desperate to feel something other than the pain.

He tried his best to be there for them when he could, sending money and visiting every couple of months. He would tell me how Isaac was doing, that he taught him how to fish and planned on teaching him to ride when he was a bit older.   
He was proud of his son but it pained him that he couldn't do more for them, the gang always had to come first.  
I was there for all the stories and even helped him choose gifts for Isaacs birthdays, giving whatever advice I could give on raising a child, not that I knew much.  
After a few years disaster struck, Eliza and Isaac were murdered for the little money that they owned. Arthur didn't know till he saw the two crosses by the cabin, their names etched into the dark wood.   
I thought he was broken when Mary left him, but this, losing something so pure and innocent, it ruined him. He changed dramatically, keeping to himself, closing himself off to everyone else. No matter how much I tried to get him to open up he would dismiss me with harsh words, no longer willing to accept mine or anyone else's support. I refused to break the promise I made to myself years ago and whether he knew it or not, I'd still support and look out for him whenever I could, even though it would be at a distance.  
Dutch and Hosea tried to help, they knew the pain of losing a loved one. Hosea suffered the most after Bessie passed, he turned to the bottle for a full year, losing himself and almost his mind. The ever-loving father figure didn't want the same to happen to someone he saw as his son.  
The five of us, including John and Tilly, would talk about his decline, how he seemed to close off his heart and become cold. We tried to distract him, help him to forget or cope in ways that would stop him becoming the shell of the man he once was.

The gang had grown a great deal within a couple of years. You would believe having a supportive family around you would assist in not feeling alone and prevent you from hitting rock-bottom. But when someone relentlessly denies any and all support from those around them, they can't be helped. Not until they realise they need it.  
I lost the Arthur I fell for years ago - No - I don't have those sort of feelings for him, never have. 

Over the next few years the gang ran into the worst trouble we have ever gotten ourselves into, we had to flee into the harsh mountains and leave the west behind us before heading back down south when it was safer. We lost people, good people, lost a lot of money and supplies, basically starting from scratch once we made camp in Horseshoe Overlook, hiding from the law, large bounties over a few of our heads.

It was here Arthur received a letter from Mary asking for help. It brought back many hard memories for Arthur, unearthing his old emotions from the depths. He bent to her will of course, but after he visited her to help with whatever she wanted he found nothing would become of them again, a small part of him hoped there was a chance.

He was suffering again, confused again. 

Mary was using him, using his still evident feelings for her to her advantage. Did she know how this was affecting him? Did she care? Seeing him being drawn back to her despite knowing it wouldn't work out, well, it enraged me, more than it probably should have.   
He had pushed me away not long after the loss of Eliza and Isaac, no longer was I able to be the one he could confide in but by God, I wasn't going to stand on the sidelines and watch him get hurt by her again.

I loved him too much to see that happen. I made a promise.


	3. Severed

I visited Mary a few days later. Not to harm or threaten her. But to talk. Clear up a few things.  
It was a great idea, I had everything I was going to say planned out. Going over a speech I had made over and over again, both and my head and out loud while I made my way to her current lodgings near Valentine. 

How hard could it be?

Knocking on the door and hearing the footsteps getting louder I stood straighter, planted my feet firmly and took in a deep breath. 

It was Mary that answered.  
Everything I had planned to say out of my head like autumn leaves in the wind.  
She was as beautiful as she was the last I saw her, many years ago.  
Still as soft-spoken when she said my name in obvious confusion, eyebrows furrowed.

Another deep breath.

“Mary- I- Look - You - “

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Well, no. Well,”

Another deep breath.

“I know you asked Arthur to help you with something.”

“Yes, I did. What is this about? Is Arthur okay?”

Just speak dammit! What am I doing? What am I doing here? Just spit it out.

“Thing is Mary, I understand you needed someone big and scary that you trust to solve your problems now that your husband has passed. But jumping back in Arthurs life has him hurting again.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well- I guess the reason I’m here is to ask that- If you’re not planning on marrying him and actually going through with it this time and accept his life, that we both know he won’t give up, then I must ask for you to leave him well alone. I can’t watch him be confused and in pain again.”

There, I said it. Kinda. Although it was a lot nicer when I rehearsed it a hundred times on the way here.

“It wasn’t my intention to confuse or hurt him in any way. I care about him.”

“So do i.”

She was silent for a few moments, keeping our eyes locked on each other like some sort of standoff until she broke it. Her shoulders relaxing as she gave out a sigh.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“I- Wha-,” I was taken back by her comment, saying the very thing I refuse to.  
“He’s my best friend. Seeing him suffer breaks me.”

She nodded at that. If she listened would be a different matter. We both cared deeply for the same man, neither of us able to have the life we wanted with him.  
It was foolish to not admit that he held a special place in both our hearts. And it was foolish to not admit that he was probably completely unaware of the effect he had on both of us.  
Women from completely different backgrounds and vastly different ways of living with him on a rope, both of us pulling each end. I just hoped that me being here wouldn’t sever my side.

“I wish you well, Mary.”

With that, I turned and mounted my horse. Making my way into Valentine for a few drinks before heading back to camp.

It was night by the time I arrived back. Once drink turning into a few beers and multiple shots. A bloodied fist from punching one of the many drunkards that assumed I was a working girl. Despite wearing pants and without a corset that pushed my tits up below my chin. I don’t know how those girls did it, but I guess if money is needed that is something some women have to do to get by. They had my upmost respect.

I stumbled back in camp, almost everyone retired to their bedrolls or tents. Arthur was on watch for the night and I debated telling him I visited Mary and that she shouldn’t bother him again and that he’s welcome. Hell, she might end up sending him another letter informing him of my little visit herself. Better if it came from me i. 

Telling him while drunk probably wasn’t the best thing. He practically oozed rage. Calling me a selfish woman that should keep her nose out of other peoples business.  
Was it not my business if someone that has my heart is hurting? Isn’t helping each other no matter what it is something we did in this merry but dysfunctional family?

I don’t like to see you being hurt, Arthur. I would say to him.

So you hurt me by messing about with my business and going behind my back? Thinking you know what’s good for me? He would say back.

Or did I cross I line? Did I let my feelings get in the way and stop me from thinking logically?  
Love is rarely logical.  
It was when he told me to leave and to not speak to him is when I realised.  
I’m a fucking idiot. My side of the rope was severed.


	4. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT IS HEREEEE!  
> Please tell me if its any good I've only written smut once before so I'm not that good lmao.  
> Enjoy cowpokes.

  
The next few were nothing short of torture. Arthur never spoke another word to me, huffing whenever I would say something to him or just walking away from me completely.    
Everyone else in camp soon noticed something serious had happened between us. Their comforting words and questions on what happened went unanswered and dismissed. I hoped time would help, that I would get a chance to explain myself and apologise for my foolishness and downright stupidity. But as the days passed, the frayed ends of the rope had no chance of being reconnected, no matter how hard I tried and how hard I cried.   
  
So I flung myself into as many jobs as I could get. As a distraction.

Robbing homesteads. Stagecoaches that turned into shootouts more often than not.    
Gambling with fellers that were too drunk to notice me stealing their wears from right under their noses and gone before they realised anything was amiss.    
Fighting in hidden alleyways with meagre men that thought they could take on a woman with nothing to lose. Just to feel something, another kind of pain that would lessen with time. 

It wasn’t until I was sat at the edge of the camp, cleaning my revolver while looking out over the overlook, stars raining bright above. Bottle of whiskey by my side that Hosea came over and sat beside me. Silent at first. Taking in the view.   
  
“You going to explain whats going on?”

“Nothings going on, Hosea.” I shrugged, running the oiled cloth over the same spot mindlessly.    
  
“Arthur won’t tell me. I though out of the two of you, you would.” he kept his eyes ahead, not bothering to look at me.    
  
I sighed, my shoulders dropping in defeat. I might as well tell him, not like he would be able to change my mind.

“I’m an idiot. I went and spoke to Mary. Told her to leave Arthur alone and to stop contacting him.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know anymore...Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You love him.” I could see his grin out of the corner of my eye, albeit a sad on.

“Not you too, Hosea.”

“You two were very close. Closer than you think I realise. I’m not a dumb old man you know”

I didnt reply to that. No point to, my mind was made up now. Instead, I holstered my gun and stood, picking up the bottle as I did.   
Turning to Hosea to finally look at him.

“I’m leaving, Hosea. Only for a few weeks or a few months. I don’t know.”

“You really think leaving will help?”    
  
“Maybe. It might help him if I’m not here. I’ll send money and write to you and Dutch. I’ve already packed.”   
  
After a few more words and questions on my plans when I’m out there on my own, we hugged and I said my goodbyes to him, Dutch and a few others.    
Promising the girls I will see them again, even though I was doubtful.    
I willed no tears to spill when I gathered my things, leaving my tent bare and hollow.    
Mounting my horse I left camp without looking back, letting the wind guide me in whatever direction it wanted me to go.

\---

Roughly 4 months had passed since leaving. Currently holed up in a now-abandoned cabin in the depths of Grizzlies East by O’Creagh’s run, hiding from the law after robbing the fence in Van Horne.    
Id wrote letters and sent money to nearby stations as promised. Keeping updated with the gangs coming and goings. The last time I heard from those who would write back, mainly Hosea and Mary-Beth, was when they were held up in a place called Shady Belle.    
I haven’t heard anything from them since. That was a month ago.   
I had thought of going there, finding them. But I couldn’t bare having to leave again after realising they had been getting on fine and had left me to my own devices. Coming to the conclusion that I was not returning and that I had abandoned them all. Which was far from the truth. I still cared, which I’m sure was evident from whatever leftover money I had been sending to them. Only, it wasn’t getting picked up from the stations anymore, along with my many letters.    
  
I was travelling back to the cabin after an evening hunting for supper and hopeful breakfast.    
The blanket of trees now behind me, opening up the wondrous starry night, pulling my jacket closed as the cold breeze this time of year began to sting any uncovered skin.    
I looked around before dismounting, taking my kill of two rabbits stowed on the side of my ever faithful horse and made my way inside. Looking around once more to make sure I hadn’t been followed. Just to be safe.   
  
As I began to skin and gut the meat, the warm glow from the lantern lighting my every movement in the otherwise dark cabin, I heard motion outside.    
Bears and wolves were not uncommon around these parts. I had to shoot my way out of a wolf pack not a week ago, coming away with nothing but a bruise on my hip from being bucked off the horse in her desperate attempt to flee.   
Nevertheless, I placed down the knife and picked up my rifle propped up against the door. Looking out the window to the right of the door. Seeing nothing and hearing nothing else.    
I went to the door, preparing my rifle then placing my ear to the door.    
It was silence for a few moments, then movement again, making its way up the steps. It didn’t sound like an animal.   
With a hand on the handle and rifle ready to be used, I swung the door open. The rifle now aimed at the unwelcomed guest. 

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness, but it didnt take long to recognise who it was.

“Arthur?” It was barely a whisper. A question of disbelief. I blinked a few times, surely my eyes were playing tricks on me.   
  


After a few breaths, he finally spoke   
  
“I’ve found you.”   
  
We just stood there, I released a breath I didnt even know I was holding.   
How did he find me? Why would he? Months of keeping myself away from people the best I could and staying hidden for long periods of time I was beginning to feel content with being a lone wolf. Not thinking that lone wolves are weakened beings after too long. Often driven out when deemed useless or a weakness to the pack, or leaving to find their own family. Not alone forever, wolves would struggle and go insane.

But he, of all people, found me. The only question now is why. And that was the only thing I could say as I lowered the gun.   
  


“Why?”

He told me everything that happened. The downfall, the betrayal, the heartbreak. Those that we lost. Everyone gone in one way or another.    
Sean, Kieran, Lenny, Hosea, Molly, Miss Grimshaw. Dead.    
Saint Denis bank, Guarma, Micah working with the Pinkertons.   
In the end, Micah had turned Dutch against almost everyone, whispering little worms into his ear until they grew and grew to leave no room for anything else.

Dutch turning his back on John and him. Leaving John to bleed out and leaving Arthur on that mountain. Where he thought would be his final resting place.    
But once the sun was up, high in the sky, he found the energy to live. To heal. To find me.

And that’s what he did the last few weeks until he heard whispers of someone fitting my description that caused a bit of hell in Van Horn. He knew he was close. 

“But...why did you want to find me?” I asked. Both of us sat around the small table below the window, two empty whiskey glasses before us.

He took in a deep breath, his perfect blue eyes meeting my bloodshot and watery ones. “I wanted to the moment I was told you left,” He leaned over, taking my hands in his. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few months. Especially in the last few weeks. What you did before you left, I understand now why.”

“But I hurt you.” letting a sob escape, my body starting to tremble and I’m sure he could feel it in my hands.   
  


“It did hurt. But losing you hurt even more,” He said, nothing more than a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine and his hold on my hands not faltering as he continued.    
“I remember what you said to me that night years ago. ‘Bout not knowing how much I mean to you. Well - I - I do. Because I feel the same. Always have. it just took me a while to realise it I guess.”

I couldn’t stop the tears. The damn had busted open. Within seconds he was on me, his arms enveloping me, my hands coming to purchase on his shirt. Neither of us wanted to let go, out of fear the other would disappear into the air like dust in the morning rays.   
We held each other for what felt like an eternity, my tears slowing and the shaking subsiding.   
I lifted my head from where it was perched on his chest to look at him, our eyes locked once more.    
No words were spoken but I could see it in the depths of those pools, the forgiveness and longing. And I was sure my eyes mirrored the same.    
His hand came up to cradle my face and instinctively leaned into him, my breathing hitching despite the calmness that watched over me. Then I looked into his eyes again, only to be met with a look I had not seen in many years.    
I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he surged forward, his lips on mine.    
It was delicate, more fragile than any other kiss we had shared.    
It wasn’t long until that fragility turned into desperation, my hands at the nape of his neck, his on my waist. My mind was running a million miles a minute, all thoughts of him and this moment. Feeling like we were young lovers again.    
His hands roamed my sides as I gripped his hair, keeping each other glued to one another.   
My body began to burn up, feelings I had repressed for months pushing their way to the surface, refusing to be drowned.   
  
We broke apart and he pulled me to stand, his lips now on my neck, trailing wet kisses from below my ear to the hollow of my neck, causing me to moan.    
He looked at me then, desperation and pleading etched upon his face before I kissed him again. Kissing the scar on his chin that was easily visible within the stubble, his jaw, down to his neck and then his chest. Pushing off his jacket and suspenders with it.   
My fingers returned to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly as he pushed me back into the direction of the bed. My legs soon coming into contact with the edge.   
His hands now making a start on my blouse, pulling it from the confines of my pants and lifting it over my head.    
My hands roaming his chest and snaking down to his abdomen, stroking the hair there, causing him to tense at my touch. He always was a fine man, built from hard work that I couldn't help but adore.   
His arms wrapping around to my back to undo the corsets lacing, completely surrounding me and all I could smell was him. Horse, rain, sweat and something that was just so undoubtedly him.   
Undoing his gun belt was muscle memory, hitting the floor with a thud, my corset following, now both bare from the waist up.    
We couldn’t wait any longer, our lips on each other once again as we worked on unbuttoning our pants. He leaned me down to lay on the bed, my legs hanging over the sides as he wasted no time to pull off the rest of my clothing.    
  
Laying there propped up on my elbows I watched as he raked his eyes over every curve, scar and freckle on my body. Kneeling between my legs he drew kisses from my knee up my thigh, getting so close to where I wanted him to be.    
He looked up at me once more, giving a shuddering breath before his mouth landed between my legs, soft but purposeful strokes easily causing me to moan.    
He didn’t let up, devouring me like a man starved as he paid close attention to my little bundle of nerves. My body shaking again but for a whole different reason. It had been too long and I knew I wasn’t going to last if he kept going for a minute longer.    
My hands fisting the bedsheets I tried to speak but it was useless, squirming from the sensations. Lifting my legs to rest on his shoulders feeling him moan against me, the vibration causing bolts of electricity to fire through my whole body and land at my core. I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching and my hand flew down to card through his hair, holding him there.    
My body convulsed as I tipped off the edge, my head rolling back as the blinding pleasure washed over me, moaning his name into the air.   
Arthur was above kissing me within seconds, tasting myself on his tongue and lips. Catching my breath he pushed me further up the bed until my head hit the plush pillows.    
Removing his pants and then situating himself between my legs.    
I could feel him pressed up against my thigh, hot and swollen and begging for attention. And oh how my body craved to give him what he needed.   
His eyes met mine, hooded and filled with lust. Silently asking for permission   
I nodded. Placing a kiss on his forehead and placing my hands on his shoulders.   
  
Electrifying jolts surged through my core as he strokes himself along my slit tenderly. His skin burning to my touch and looking downright drunk. Completely intoxicated.    
He sinks into me slowly. My body soon getting accustomed to the memory of him as he bottoms out, his hips meeting my thighs. My breath hitches as he bites back a moan. Both of us taking a moment just to bask in the feeling of one another like this again.    
It all felt the same but oh so different. He kissed the scar on my collar bone that he only got to see before when it was fresh. We had been through so much over the years we would need to learn about each other again. But one thing remained the same; my body yeard for him.   
He pulled out before setting a languid pace, lifting one of my legs to wrap around his waist, allowing him to go deeper, his pace quickening and lifting my hips to meet him, Chasing our pleasure.    
One hand in my hair, tangled up with my locks as his other hand firmly grasped my hip.    
The look on his face was evidence that he was holding back, needing to completely lose himself in me. And I felt the same.    
  
“Arthur...Please.” I purred, not needing to say anymore.    
His pace quickened with a grunt, one that was a borderline growl.    
My moans and the sounds of skin on skin filling the air and our ears as he kept hitting that sweet spot. My nails forming crescents on his shoulders.    
Pulling him down to crush my lips against his, our teeth clicking and tongues dancing together. Pulling back suddenly with swollen lips as the pressure began to build, my whole body trembling more and more as I got higher and higher.    
Moaning out his name as his rhythm began to falter.   
Nuzzling into my neck and mumbling  _ oh, fuck,  _ in that gravelly but wanton voice.   
His hand on my hip made its way between my legs, rubbing in quick circles.    
I couldn’t hold back. That coil within me growing tighter and tighter before snapping. My back arching as the shockwaves rocked through me. Slowing his pace slightly to ride me through it before picking up his pace again, chasing his pleasure with a few more pumps of his hips and he stilled. His hand like a vice on my thigh as he spent himself inside me with a drawn-out moan.   
  
It took us a few moments to get our breath back. Pulling himself from me causing me to whimper from the empty feeling and sensitivity.   
He moved to lay beside me and pulled me to lay with my head on his shoulder. Neither of us willing to clean ourselves up just yet. My skin now acknowledging the cold air around us. The thin sheen of sweat cooling me.   
Nothing was said for a while as he held me close until he broke the silence to place a kiss to the top of my head then lifting my chin for my face to meet his.    
  
“I love you,” he said. My eyes getting blurry from the confession I never thought I would hear. But looking at him I knew it was true. His eyes shone with adoration.    
I smiled weakly before kissing him once. Looking back into his eyes and with no hesitation, I said out loud what id only heard myself mutter in my dreams.    
  
“I love you too."


End file.
